


Family, Things & Family Things

by ScribeShan



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Mental Health Issues, Pregnancy, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeShan/pseuds/ScribeShan
Summary: Toby and Happy have a lot to celebrate their first Christmas as a married couple, when tragedy strikes.Canon-compliant through 4x11.





	Family, Things & Family Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaye/gifts).



> For Kylie, who requested Quintis, with some Waige and Ralph mixed in. She likes fluff, pregnancy and overcoming angst, and was specifically interested in some Toby backstory. I tried to hit all those notes here.  It ended up WAY long, but I hope it’s also way enjoyable. The merriest of Christmases to you, Kylie!
> 
> So, canon imitated fic a bit on this one. We’d heard very little about Toby’s dad the whole series, and then in the Christmas ep, after this fic was nearly complete, AU Toby breaks out this childhood memory with his dad that he’s been clinging to “for happiness.” It also shows an AU first meeting of Happy and Toby. You’re going to see that theme repeated here, but it’s entirely coincidental. And kind of creepy...I think the Scorpion writers might have hacked my hard drive.
> 
> Trigger Warning: So when I said angsty, I meant ANGSTY. This story deals with the death of a parent, severe mental illness, childhood trauma, and profound grief. That said, there’s also Christmas cookies and figure skating and Happy with cravings. And, I promise, an upbeat ending.

December 20, 2010

Happy tried to steady herself with a hand to the ceiling while the ladder wobbled beneath her. “Dammit.” An unexpected knock on the garage door nearly sent her tumbling head over heels. “Come in!”

A black fedora floated through the open door. “Hello?” the head under the fedora tilted up to reveal a bearded face and hazel eyes. “Whoa!”

“Ladder,” Happy replied with only a glance down. 

“What?”

Happy put an arm out in a vain attempt to balance her weight. “Steady the damn—”

“Ladder, got it,” the stranger ran forward and the wobbling mercifully stopped.

“Thanks,” Happy mumbled as she made a few adjustments with a set of journeyman’s pliers. 

“What the hell are you doing up there, risking life and limb to hang Christmas lights?”

“Do you see any Christmas lights?” Happy said as she descended the ladder. “I was repairing a junction box that I’m pretty sure was installed by Edison himself. Switch.”

The stranger knit his brows together. “I’m sorry?”

“Hit the switch behind you, dummy.”

“Dummy?” he said, backing toward the light switch all the same. “Just FYI, most people communicate in complete sentences.”

“Just FYI, I’m not most…” the garage lights flickered on, “…people.”

“And let there be light,” the stranger stuck his hands in his back pockets and craned his neck to look at the ceiling. “Hey, what is this, some kind of auto-repair shop?”

“Sometimes.” Happy scowled at the stranger now that she was on terra firma once again. “So…”

The guy dropped his eyes to hers. “So?”

Happy rolled her hand. “Can. I. Help. You.”

An arched eyebrow, a quirk of the his lips, but if he had a retort, he bit down on it. “I think I’m looking for one of your neighbors. You know a place called Scorpion? Or a guy named Walter O’Brien?”

“You’re looking at it,” Happy shoved her hair out of her eyes, then nodded toward the opening door. “And him.”

“Oh,” Walter pushed the door closed. “Good, you’re here. Let’s get started.”

“Hey, Walter,” the guy nodded. 

“OK, so, you’ve obviously met our fabricator and engineer. Mark Collins is our broadcast systems specialist; he’s around here somewhere,” Walter shrugged out of his jacket. “We can get you set up over here.”

“Um..Walt? Wanna catch me up?” Happy asked cautiously.

“He’s our new behaviorist,” Walter gestured toward the new guy, never breaking his stride.

“We actually hadn’t gotten to that part yet, Walt,” he extended his hand. “Dr. Tobias M. Curtis. Toby. I guess I’m your new co-worker.”

Happy scowled at Toby’s hand, then turned the look on Walter. “ _More_ new people?”

“We can’t run a think tank with just you and me, Happy.”

Toby turned on his heel, smile splitting his face. “ _Happy_?”

“Just what the _hell_ are you grinning at?”

“Nothing,” Toby pushed his palms forward. “Not a damn thing.”

“Happy Quinn,” Walter nodded. “Like I said, we’ll get you set up over here. _Without delay_.”

Toby watched as Walter retreated over his shoulder. “I should…” he nodded in Walter’s direction. Then leaned forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Seriously, what the hell do you guys _do_ here?”

“Hell if I know anymore,” Happy ground out, then jerked her chin toward Walter. “Go find out.”

Toby pulled himself to his full height. “That, I will. _Happy_ to meet you. _Happy_ to be on the team. And _happy_ holidays, by the way.”

“If you’re under the impression that I won’t throw things at you, you’re wrong.”

“Got it,” Toby backed away, and she turned toward her workbench. “ _Happy_ to give you some space!” he called from a safe distance.

Happy wrapped her hands around her pliers so tight her knuckles turned white. “God, I hate new people,” she breathed.

* * *

Dec. 20, 2017

Happy watched history repeat itself from behind her workbench as Ralph teetered near the top of the ladder, dragging a string of lights behind him. 

“Both hands on the ladder, buddy!” she called.

“If I’ve got both hands on the ladder, how am I supposed to hang the lights?”

“Wait, Ralph?” Paige called from the loft. “ _No_ ladders!”

Ralph looked back at Happy and rolled his eyes.

Happy put her finger to her lips, a silent promise to keep her mouth shut.

“ _MERRY CHRISTMAS!”_ Toby popped up beside her and she had to lean back when she was nearly hit in the face with an ornament, hung by a wire hanger from the brim of Toby’s hat. 

“What the hell is that?”

“Mistletoe!” Toby flicked the ornament. Some glitter fell from the ribbon. “Pretty _genius_ , don’t you think?”

“OK,” Happy pulled the wire contraption from his head. “That’s enough sugar for you.”

“Oh, come on,” Toby pulled her close. “It’s our meet-iversary.”

“You are deeply nuts,” Happy squirmed in his arms, but did nothing to push him away.

“That is to say, the anniversary of our meeting.”

“I don’t remember. Seems like it was Christmastime.”

“Yes, you do, and so do I. Seven years ago today, I walked through that door,” he spun to point, “and first laid eyes on the love of my life, the life of my love, my partner in crime, the sexiest mechanic on the planet—”

Happy relented, pressing a long kiss to his lips, until his refusal to pull away made her laugh in spite of herself. “Get the hell away from me and go help that kid before he breaks a leg.”

Toby took another kiss. “On it.” She watched as he scampered to help Ralph on the ladder, throwing Cabe a wave as he arrived and crossed the bullpen quickly.

“Hey,” Cabe pulled Paige aside as she descended the steps, delaying her attempts to shoo Ralph away from his light-hanging mission. “Get a load of this.”

He turned his back to the garage and pulled a soft plush duckling from a shopping bag, holding it close to his chest to keep it hidden. “I saw it in a window and I couldn’t resist.”

“What are you _doing_?” Paige lectured. “We are not forcing their hand on this!”

Sylvester popped up over Cabe’s shoulder. “OK, even I have to admit that’s pretty cute.”

“What is wrong with you guys?” Paige whisper-screamed as Walter descended the steps. “ _Ralph_ has been better at playing it cooler than you three grown men. This is Happy and Toby’s news, and they will share it with us when they’re ready.”

“Oh, come on, poor kid’s greener than a St. Patrick’s Day beer half time time. Does she really think we haven’t noticed?”

“Plus, Toby’s previously nearly constant mentions of attempts at…conception,” Sylvester pulled a face, “have dropped 83.5% in the last couple of weeks.”

“They’ve been coming in late and leaving early, even for them,” Walter snarled. “And Toby’s been fussing over her, getting bags, jackets, healthful snacks—”

“And he’s been strutting around like a peacock, I know, I think subtlety has gone by the wayside,” Paige said. “It doesn't matter whether or not we’ve all guessed,” she said, as Sylvester stepped away to answer the ringing office phone. “They will tell us in their time, not ours.”

“Toby, phone!” Sylvester called.

“What are we all whispering about?” Happy appeared in the circle, and Cabe tucked the duck inside his jacket.

“Uh, R-Ralph’s Christmas present,” Paige stammered.

“Tell me about it,” Happy shook her head. “I’m coming up blank on Toby—”

“When did this happen?…Where was he?” Toby’s voice grew tense as he spoke into the landline in the middle of the bullpen. “No, I realize you don’t have any way of knowing that, I just…is he responsive?…What are his vitals?” The gang turned to watch. “OK, um,” Toby closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m in Los Angeles, it’s gonna be a few hours…what hospital did you say?…Yeah. Yeah, I know where it is…Let me give you my mobile, if there’s any change…”

Happy took slow, measured steps toward him as he shakily rattled off his phone number. He ended the call, and stared at the phone in his hand.

“Doc?”

He spun like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.

“What was that?” Happy nodded at the phone.

Toby looked down at his hand. “Nothing.” He set the phone down stiffly and took two dazed steps back toward his desk.

“Toby,” Happy caught his elbow.

“Huh?”

“Who was that on the phone?”

He blinked twice. “Um, hospital in Brooklyn. It’s my, um…” his voice began to shake, “my father, some kind of neurological event.” He waved his hand near his temple. 

They all stared at each other for a beat, then Paige sprung into motion. “I’ll get you on a plane as soon as possible.”

“Kid,” Cabe approached a wordless Toby, where Happy still held his elbow. “The important thing is he’s in a hospital, getting the care he needs. I’m sure the docs will fix him right up—”

Toby shook his head, eyes glassy. 

“Sure they will, kid, you can’t think like that.”

“There’s catastrophic damage,” Toby said tonelessly. “He’s dying, Cabe.” He sucked in a pained breath, turned slowly to meet Happy’s eyes. “My dad’s dying. Right now.”

* * *

“Something to drink, ma’am?”

Happy was pulled from watching Toby stare out the window by the flight attendant. “Um…ginger ale.” The flight attendant began deftly filling a glass with ice and pouring the drink. “And for you, sir?”

Toby didn’t hear, absorbed in the darkening sky on the other side of the glass.

“The same,” Happy said.

She lowered his tray table and set the drink in front of him, Paige’s hurried advice before they’d left the garage replaying in her head: _Everyone’s going to be asking him what he needs, but in his state, he doesn’t know. The best thing you can do for him is watch him, anticipate what he needs, and get it for him. He’s not able to think clearly right now._

Paige should know, Happy figured. She’d lost her own father before they’d met her. She laid her hand on his forearm. “Hey.” Toby turned toward the sound of her voice, blinking as if coming out of a trance. She pushed the glass toward him. “Drink this.”

Toby stared down at it before taking a sip, but something about the taste of it seemed to start his brain moving again. “Oh, man, are you eating?”

“Yes, mother hen.”

“Seriously, Happy, evenly spaced small meals have been the most successful way we’ve found so far of controlling your nausea—”

“And I’ve got your meticulously assembled nerdy snack packs in my bag,” Happy said. “I’m eating. I’m good.”

Toby’s thumb moved against hers, and his eyes flicked down to her abdomen. “Pretty sure I completely spaced on you guys. I’m sorry.”

“Toby, I can remember when to eat on my own.”

Toby let his head fall back against the headrest. “I don’t even remember how we got to the airport.”

She squeezed his hand, unsure if that should worry her. “Doc, I’ve got it. It’s OK.”

He knit his brows together, looking as if he wanted to say something else, then seemed to give up on formulating the thought. “‘Kay.” His eyes drifted closed.

“We can tell him, you know,” Happy said, and his eyes opened slowly. “About the turtle,” she used their code name for the baby. “I know we said we wouldn’t tell anybody until end of first trimester, but…we can tell him. If you want to.”

Toby blinked long. “Tell him about the turtle…” he echoed. “He…probably won’t regain consciousness.”

He turned from her then, leaned his head against the edge of the window. Happy felt his hand go limp in hers.

* * *

“He talked to the doctor for a while, and looked at some scans and test results. He seems to agree that there’s very little chance, you know, for anything but…” Happy sat cross-legged on a cushioned bench in the hallway near the nurses’ station, where she’d set up camp. The hallways were dimmed due to the late hour, and the area was surprisingly quiet as she watched Toby through the window in his father’s room.

“I don’t know, Paige, I’m the one of us who isn’t a shrink. He seemed…better than at the garage and on the plane, I guess. I went in for a minute, but he shooed me out quick enough. His Cousin Annie was here for a while, but she left, too. She’s got kids in Westchester, or somewhere…no, he’s just sitting in there, watching the monitors. I mean, should I go in? OK. OK, we’ll let you know when we know something.”

She ended the call, watched Toby for a while longer as he kept vigil at his father’s bedside, but soon enough, her eyelids grew heavy.

* * *

“Hey, Sleepyhead,” she felt his hand come to rest on her head and cracked open her eyes. He knelt by the bench, eyes red-rimmed, face paler than usual, but he had a soft smile on his face. “Whaddya say we get some shut-eye?”

“Oh, man, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. We can stay, if you need to,” she mumbled, pulling herself upright. 

Toby shook his head wordlessly, threaded his fingers with hers as they walked toward the elevator, go-bags they’d grabbed from the garage in tow.

He barely said a word once they got in the cab, bound for his father’s apartment a few neighborhoods over. Happy found she couldn’t even pretend not to be staring. “Hey, Doc?”

“Yeah,” came the hoarse reply as he stared out the window. “Yeah, it’s over.”

“Toby, you should have woken me.”

“I did. A few minutes later. There was nothing you could have done, Hap.” On the seat between them, his hand squeezed hers. “I called my Annie. She offered to help with putting arrangements together.”

“OK,” Happy nodded, feeling about as helpless as she could remember. “We’ll get with her tomorrow.”

The cab stopped at the curb, and Happy met Toby on the other side of the car to find him staring up at the building, looking for all the world like a lost child. “Oh, man,” he whispered.

Well, hell, _this_ , she could fix. “Hey,” she smacked the hood of the taxi before it could pull away. “Change of plans. We’re headed into Manhattan.”

A quick text to Paige for help with reservations as she cajoled Toby back into the cab, and they were on their way to a hotel far away from Toby’s childhood apartment, and the memories that went with it.

* * *

She was up for a 3 a.m. turtle-mandated snack, staring out the window at Manhattan’s concrete jungle when Toby shot straight up in bed. “Happy?!?” The unfamiliar sight of the room only seemed to make it worse. “Happy?!?”

“Whoa, Toby,” she pulled his attention toward her as she sat on the side of the bed. “It was a bad dream.” His eyes continued to wander the room frantically. “Toby, we’re in New York…for—”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. His arms wrapped around her, pulled her into the bed and tightly against him. Eventually, his trembling quieted, head tucked under her chin as she pulled her fingers gently through his hair.

“Better?” she whispered into his scalp. He answered with a shaky nod.

She pressed a kiss into his hair. “Was it like the ones you were having when Collins first escaped?”

He shook his head. “Worse.” His fingers brushed across her stomach. “I don’t want to lose you guys,” he saids against her sternum. “I _can’t_.”

She let her fingertips come to rest on the back of his neck. “You won’t. It was just a stupid dream.”

* * *

“Oh, my God,” Happy said around a mouthful of food.

Toby smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “This is one of my favorite places in the whole city.”

“With good reason,” she nodded. “Ukranian diners. Who knew? So why aren’t you eating? I mean I know why, but…try?”

Toby pushed his pierogi around on his plate. “I’ve been putting something off.”

Happy furrowed her brow. “I think we’ve made good progress today. Thanks to Cousin Annie’s help we’ve got the services planned, most of the family told, we even picked up a suit from your dad’s place. Paige is taking care of getting some clothes sent to us.”

Toby nodded. “But my mom,” he sighed miserably, watching the passersby out the window. “Happy, I have to tell my mom my dad died.”

Happy nodded, considering her next words carefully. “When you…said she couldn’t leave the hospital to come to the wedding, I just assumed…assumed she wasn’t really…”

“Coherent? She’s not, often. But I can’t…” he fidgeted uncomfortably on his side of the booth. “I can’t just not tell her this.”

“Did…he visit her…much?”

Toby shook his head. “Not once I had her admitted to this inpatient facility. I think it was a relief for him.”

Happy laid her hand palm-up on the table between them, and he took it. “Then…we’ll go. Together.”

Toby winced. “Happy, it might…get pretty intense.”

Happy screwed her face up. “If memory serves, I _think_ we’ve had intense before.”

* * *

Toby halted momentarily in the hallway outside his mother’s room. “Step out if you need to, OK?”

“I don’t need to,” Happy said.

“I’m saying, I never know which way things are gonna go, and I’ve got to be focused on her while I’m in there so if you need to step out, I need you to feel free to do it, because I might not see if you—”

“What part of ‘together’ are you struggling with, dummy?”

Toby gave her perhaps the saddest smile she’d ever seen. “Just promise me you’ll go if you need to. I’ll find you. Just promise.”

Happy felt her brow furrow tightly over the bridge of her nose, but nodded anyway.

He dropped his eyes closed, then, took a deep breath seeming to center himself. “Nothing is going to happen that you can’t handle,” he whispered. 

“I’ll be fine, Doc.”

He cracked one eye open, gave her a lopsided grin. “That was for me.” He squeezed her hand as they passed through the door, then let go. A woman in her late fifties stared blankly at a television set opposite her worn chair. “Hey, Mom,” Toby said, forcing a lilt into his voice. He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “How ya doin’?”

“Hi,” his mother said absently.

Toby perched on the ottoman by the chair, reached for the remote. “Mind if I turn this off so we can visit for a while? Whatcha watchin’, anyway? Oh,” he paused with the remote in his hand. “ _Science World_.”

The woman propped her chin in her hand. “My Toby loves to watch this.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, pressing the mute button. “Yeah, I did. Hey, Mom?” He scooped his hat off, ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you notice it’s me? I’m Toby.”

The woman looked him in the eye for the first time, then laughed as if he’d told a brilliant joke. “You tease!” she pushed his arm jovially. “My little boy is only four!”

Toby forced a tight smile. “Used to be, anyway.” He pulled a hand down his face. “Um, Mom?” He extended his palm toward Happy in the doorway. “Mom, this is Happy. Happy Quinn.” 

Happy took one step forward, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “It’s, um…it’s very nice to meet you.”

“What a positively wonderful name!” Toby’s mother beamed. “Your parents must have been very enlightened people. Artists, I’ll bet.”

“I guess so. I don’t really know.” She fumbled for more words to fill the silence. _What would Paige say?_ “But, um, it really is a pleasure. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Her mother pointed at Happy, shaking her finger with a grin. “Oh, you’re both jokesters! Where would you have heard anything about me? We just met.”

Happy faltered. “U-ummm…”

“Mom, Happy and I got married this year. Few months ago.”

His mother’s demeanor changed, and she turned an icy glare on him. “We meant to get home sooner, but work’s been crazy. I’m sorry we couldn’t visit sooner.”

“Home…” his mother said absently. “Wait a minute, why aren’t you in Boston?”

“I don’t live in Boston anymore, Mom, I live in LA. I came home for a visit.”

“LA?!? What happened to Boston?”

“Nothing happened to Boston—”

“You certainly did make a big stink out of leaving Coney Island, leaving your mother and father to go off to that school of yours—”

“Harvard. I did go, Mom—”

“And if you were going to drop out, the least you could do was come back home to help take care of your mother.”

Something about that seemed to stick in Toby’s flesh, and he drew himself up straighter on the ottoman, at a loss for words for one of the only times Happy had ever seen.

“Not to worry, Victoria, Toby would never drop out,” a doctor in his mid-40s leaned in the doorway casually. “He finished top of our class, even though he was younger than everybody else. Drove the rest of us crazy. I see you have some visitors today.”

“Real jokesters these two. Just like my Toby…and his father. His father always did think he was funny.”

“You didn’t think so?” Dr. Roth asked.

“I did…until it got old.”

“Now, that’s marriage,” Dr. Roth gave her a wink. “Victoria, do you mind if I borrow your guests for a minute?”

Victoria waved her hand with a little grunt, went back to staring through the muted television.

“I’ll be right back, ok, Mom?” Toby touched her knee.

“You need to get back to Boston,” his mother lectured. “Before your academics start to suffer.”

Toby stood. “Be right back.” He pulled the door closed behind him. “Well,” he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “That was a little better than I was expecting, to be honest. You’re making progress with this new drug regimen.”

“Better?” Happy breathed.

The doctor looked at Happy for a beat. “Victoria is suffering from an array of disorders with different treatments. A drug that may help one of her conditions can cause the symptoms of another to worsen. It’s been difficult finding a balance. We’ve got her to a place right now…as you saw, her focus wanders, more than I’d like…but her anxiety is low, hallucinations very minor. It’s not what we’d like for her, but it’s the best we’ve been able to do in years.”

“It’s good work, Marty,” Toby nodded. “She actually knew who I was some of the time.”

“Well, I almost didn’t recognize you myself. Charge nurse told me Dr. Curtis was on the floor and I rushed down here to check her for a head injury.” He turned his attention back to Happy. “The other Mrs. Curtis, I presume?”

Happy smiled tightly as she shook his hand. “I guess so.”

“Happy Quinn,” Toby said. “Happy, Marty Roth and I were at Harvard together. He does great work with inpatient cases like my mother’s.”

“So, you married this guy, huh?” Dr. Roth hooked a thumb at Toby. “Have you ever been evaluated by a mental health professional?”

“Wise guy,” Toby socked him in the arm, and for a moment, the two of them tussled like childhood friends, which, in Toby’s case, Happy supposed, was true.

“So what brings you here to darken my door?” Dr. Roth said.

Toby puts his hands on his hips, heaved a breath. “My dad collapsed suddenly yesterday afternoon. He died last night.”

The doctor’s shock was evident. “Heart?”

Toby shook his head. “ICH.”

The doctor seemed to process the acronym Happy didn’t know. “He was a young man, wasn’t he?”

“61, in January.”

The doctor dropped a hand to Toby’s shoulder. “Damn, I’m sorry, Toby.”

“Thanks,” Toby squeaked, then cleared his throat. “How will she take it?”

“She won’t,” Dr. Roth said. “It will overwhelm her. It would overwhelm anyone. But with her…”

Toby nodded. “But I feel like I have to…”

“I get it,” he nodded. “Let’s try together, OK?”

Toby nodded, took a steadying breath. 

“You wanna take a minute?” the doctor asked.

“No,” Toby expelled a wet laugh. “Hell no, I want this over as soon as possible.”

Next thing Happy knew, he was pulling her a few steps down the hall. “Sit this one out, OK?” came the hoarse whisper in her ear. “Just…please just sit this one out.”

Happy nodded wordlessly, watched from her spot as Toby and the doctor went behind closed doors with his mother again. She listened over the next few minutes as the voices inside the room became louder and louder, until his mother was clearly hysterical, drowning out the Christmas music from the overhead speakers. Happy fought the urge to bolt, wondered if the nausea in the pit of her stomach was courtesy of the turtle, or what she was witnessing. 

The door flew open and Toby ran from the room, stopping only when he hit the wall on the other side of the hall. He gulped air, a few stray tears dropping down his cheeks, then ran abruptly for the door at the end of the hallway, never having looked in her direction. It took Happy a few seconds before she could make her feet move from the spot where Toby had planted her, but when she did, she followed as fast as her legs would carry her.

* * *

The door at the end of the hall led to a courtyard, empty on a cold December afternoon in New York. Happy watched through the glass as Toby paced with his eyes closed, hands squeezing his head. Finally, he dropped to one of the picnic benches, burying his face in his hands.

Happy swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed the door open. She laid her hands on his shoulders from behind, unsure of her verbal footing now more than ever. He spun on the bench at lightning speed, looked up at her with a face gone slack from relief, and pulled her to him, leaning his head into her stomach.

Happy traced her fingers through his hair as he wrapped his arms around her legs. Little sighs of relief escaping with every exhale. Finally, when he grew still, she decided to try a Toby tactic.

“So how’d it go?” she asked sunnily.

A staccato laugh into her shirt told her it had been the right choice. “Boy,” he cooed, sniffling, “that was risky. I like it.” She felt his shoulders move with a steadying breath, and he unwrapped one arm to tap her belt buckle. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi yourself.”

“Not talkin’ to you, talkin’ to my kid, thank you very much.”

Happy dipped her head to press a kiss to the top of his head. “ _Our_ kid, thank you very much.”

His thumb rubbed across the denim of her jeans just under her belt. “The turtle is not ever to see that. Any of it. And if that means that Grandma Curtis is just someone we send school pictures and and birthday cards in the mail, and never visit, that’s what it means.”

Happy nodded. “Copy that.”

“I mean it. I don’t ever want the turtle being exposed that,” he leaned his forehead against her stomach. “Ever. I don’t ever want her…him…to know what that is. To even know _that_ it is.”

“I’ve got you,” Happy said, running her hands along his shoulders. “No argument here.”

He placed his hands on her hips, drew another deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Happy,” he croaked.

“Shut up,” Happy drew her fingers down the back of his neck. “That is not your fault. None of that is your fault, Tob—”

The door to the courtyard opened to reveal Dr. Roth. “I sedated her. She’s resting comfortably.”

“Good call.” Toby let go of Happy and scrubbed his face with his hands.

“You OK?” the doctor asked, handing him the fedora he’d retrieved from Victoria’s room.

Toby nodded wordlessly. 

“Liar.”

“Marty, it is what it is.”

“That’s right, it is. You did your good-son duty, Toby. Now,” he perched on the bench opposite Toby. “When are the services?”

“Tomorrow.”

Dr. Roth nodded, pulled his prescription pad from his lab coat. “Good. Your work here is done, I’ll take it from here. If you want to come back and visit before you leave town, we can play that by ear, but I think you need to give it some time. That’s my job. Your job is to go back to your hotel, get some rest, and turn your attention toward grieving your father.” He pulled the prescription off the pad and held it out to him. 

“I’ll be fine.”

Dr. Roth held the slip out to Happy. “Fill it. It’s very mild, something to help him sleep. He’s being stubborn right now, a habit I see he hasn’t broken since our Harvard days. He’ll want it later.”

“No he won’t,” Toby said, settling the fedora on his head.

“No you’re right, because I’m only a psychiatrist who’s known you for twenty years,” Dr. Roth said, then looked pointedly at Happy. “Better to have it and not need it…”

Happy nodded. “We’ll fill it.”

“You know, for your information, I can write my own damn prescriptions, by the way.”

“Really?” Happy tucked the slip in her pocket. “Did you go to medical school or something?”

Dr. Roth roared as he opened the door to the hall. “I like her, Toby. Hold on to her, if you can.”

Toby pressed a kiss to Happy’s forehead. “You got that right.” He paused outside his mother’s darkened room. 

“She’s sleeping,” Dr. Roth said. “And when she wakes up, best guess, she won’t allow herself to remember. Just go. Taking care of her is my job. Taking care of you is your job.”

Toby extended his hand. “Thanks, Marty.”

“It was great to see you, man, circumstances aside. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Toby nodded, the simple words seeming to hit him like a ton of bricks. “Thanks.”

* * *

The ringing of his phone and Happy’s whispered swear roused him from a dreamless sleep a few hours later. He felt Happy reach over him and the ringing stopped.

“Hello?…This is Happy…Yes, Toby’s—Toby’s Happy, yes…oh, Cousin George…he is, he’s sleeping…he’s ok, just, um, resting, I guess…yes, the service is tomorrow at 11. The family is meeting at Cousin Annie’s before…ok…ok…I’ll let him know you called…thank you.”

Toby cracked his eyes open to see Happy’s head on the pillow next to him. “Toby’s Happy,” he drawled. “Remind me to thank George for getting you to say that.”

“Damn, I tried not to wake you.” She rolled on her side to face him, studied him. “Any better?”

“Mmm, near to you is always better.” He blinked slowly, reached for a strand of her hair on the pillow, wound it lazily around his finger. Then, his eyes opened wide. “Hap, we need clothes for the service. We only brought our go-bags.”

“Paige is taking care of it.”

“It’s at 11 tomorrow.”

“I know,” Happy wondered if that sleeping pill was hitting Toby’s sensitive system a little hard. “She knows. Toby, remember we talked about this?”

Toby closed his eyes. “We did. I’m tired. Sorry.” He rubbed at an eyelid. “Oh, man, I’m gonna have to clean out that whole apartment.”

Happy blinked. His brain was all over the place. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it until after the service.”

He nodded absently. “Turtle feeling OK?”

“Turtle felt like making me woozy about an hour ago. Went away after I ate some saltines and dried fruit.”

“Good,” he gave her a soft smile, traced his knuckle down her cheek. “I wish you didn’t have to go through this part, Love.” He yawned. “What time is it?”

“Little after 5.”

“Damn pill put me under for three hours in the middle of the afternoon,” Toby mumbled.

Happy nodded. “Do you need anything?”

Toby’s hazel eyes darkened. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her closer, caught her lips with his. “Toby’s Happy,” he whispered.

Happy rolled him onto his back, threw one knee to his other side. A gentle kiss turned searing in seconds. “OK, but just so you know, later?”

“Yeah?”

“Turtle wants more pierogi.”

It wasn’t quite a laugh, just a spasm of his chest behind a weak smile, but something about it comforted her. “Turtle’s gonna have to be patient.”

* * *

“You know, I’ve been working on cars since I was a kid, but I think it’s only taken an afternoon to develop dishpan hands,” Happy pulled her hands from the water and knocked the suds off with disdain. 

“The hot water in this house is scalding. Who would’ve thought I would have run out of dishes…twice,” Cousin Annie took the last plate from her and rinsed it. “Thanks for your help. I didn’t intend to put you to work.”

“I’m…not very good at making conversation with new people. I figured I’d just let Toby do his thing.”

“He seems to he holding up OK,” Annie said.

“Maybe too well?” Happy offered. 

“Well,” Annie handed her a towel, leaned in the doorway to watch Toby in the living room. “Uncle Paul was a good man, and my mother loved him with her whole heart. But there is a lot of water under the bridge, for Toby in particular. Between Paul and his mother…” she shook her head. “Family, you know?”

Happy shrugged. “Not really. But I’m beginning to.”

In the living room, Toby crouched in front of Annie’s six-year-old daughter, who was dressed to the nines for the services, but barefoot on the living room rug. “Zoe, I am a Harvard-trained psychiatrist. This secret is locked in your brain. We are going to find this missing shoe together.”

“What’s a Hah-verd?” Zoe scrunched her nose up. 

Toby gaped. “Annie, what kind of upbringing are you giving this kid?”

Annie responded with an exaggerated shrug before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Toby stopped short when he saw Happy. “Hi.” He tapped his empty wrist. “Oh, my God, we should have just bought clothes.”

Happy pulled out her phone. “Paige will come through.”

“I’m not worried about her, I’m worried about the courier guy,” Toby said, digging in the cushions of the couch. His face lit up. “Oh, wait! Ah-ha!!!” he pulled a girls’ ballet flat from the crevices of the sofa. “Is _this_ your shoe?”

Zoe hopped in place excitedly.

“Zoe? Where is the other shoe?”

Zoe shrugged. “In my room?”

“OK, we don’t need to lose the one we _already had_ ,” Toby said. “So put this one on your foot,” he handed the shoe to the little girl, “and let’s go get the other one before this one wanders off again.”

“Feels weird to only wear one,” the little girl complained as she marched awkwardly down the hall. 

“Oh, in that case, let’s go as quickly as possible to get the other one,” he turned and made an exaggerated face to Happy before following the kid.

The doorbell rang moments later. “Toby?” Annie’s husband called. “Some people at the door for you.”

Happy heard Toby come barreling down the hall. “Suit people? Finally! I thought I was going to have to go to my own father’s funeral in jeans and a t-shir…”

The remaining members of Team Scorpion stood awkwardly in the entryway. Paige help up two garment bags. “Special delivery,” she said sunnily.

Toby’s face was slack with shock. “Seriously?” he breathed.

“Kid,” Cabe said, stepping out of the team lineup. “We sure were sorry to hear about your pop.”

Toby’s eyes went glassy. “I can’t believe you guys just…” he let himself be pulled into Cabe’s brief hug. “…got on a plane and just…” Cabe let him go and Toby struggled to take in all the faces in front of him. “Hey, Ralphie-Boy. Hey, Sly, hey, pal. Walter…Paige, I just…”

“You and Happy just have a few minutes to change,” Paige waved the garment bag at him. “Go.”

Toby turned to Happy. “And you…”

“Paige’s idea,” Happy shrugged.

* * *

After the service, the team milled around as Happy made her way through the crowd with an armful of bottled waters. She handed a few off to Paige. “For Annie and crew,” she said. “They’ve been standing in line talking for nearly an hour.”

“ _Love_ her, by the way,” Paige said. 

“Me, too, if I’m being honest. She’s been a huge help,” Happy glanced over at Toby. “Be right back.”

“…well, I can’t thank you enough for coming,” Toby said warmly as the person in line stepped away.

Happy pulled him to the side, pressed a bottle of water into his hands. To her surprise, Toby grinned excitedly. “Can you believe this?”

“Believe what?”

“The place is packed! I wasn’t sure anyone besides family would show, I mean he didn’t run in the best circles, if you know what I mean. But extended family, people he worked with, a few old friends…and everyone…it’s just been so…” he laid his hand over his heart, cracked the biggest smile Happy had seen since he’d gotten the news. “Happy, he was so _loved_. And not just by me. That’s…that’s really amazing to see. Really healing.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “You doing OK?” Happy nodded. “Thanks for the water. I don’t want to miss anybody,” he hooked his thumb over her shoulder. “Don’t forget to sit every once in a while, OK?” He resumed his place in line.

“He seems like he’s holding up really well,” Paige said.

“He seems OK,” Happy said. “Better as time goes by.”

“What is it?”

“Just…he was very upset when he had to tell his mom. But other than that…when you guys showed up at Annie’s, that’s the closest I’ve seen him to really crying.”

“Happy, this has been a terrible shock,” Paige said. “Maybe it hasn’t caught up with him yet. Or maybe that’s just not going to be a big part of his reaction to this. Especially when you consider the family history…”

Happy’s eyes went wide. “I’ve learned more about the family history in the last two days than I have the entire time I’ve known Toby. Paige, we didn’t know the half of it.”

Paige shook her head sadly, then something caught her eye. “What’s going on?”

 Happy turned to see Toby standing stiffly in line as three men in their sixties crowded around him. “Look at you all grown up!” one of them said jovially.

“Hey, Tim. Mike. Jim,” Toby’s stilted greeting was anything but friendly.

“Mike? Come on, Toby, it’s your old pal Pooter!”

Toby pressed his lips together tightly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Oh, Toby, we wouldn’t miss it. We loved your old man, God rest his soul.”

Happy began to close the distance between them, but Cabe was already on it.

“Guys? Thank you so much for coming. Paul’s niece Annie would love to say hello to you.”

“Toby,” Jim said, “the timing of this sucks, but since you’re in town, we thought you might like to join us at the track on Christmas. We’ll have a beer and place a few bets in honor of your old man.”

“In _honor_ of…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Sure, and the fact that I can handicap the ponies for you off the top of my head even better than the oddsmakers, that’s not why you want me there.”

“Aw, come on, Toby, that’s not what he—”

Toby turned on his heel and nearly ran from the room, Happy hot on his heels.

“Gentlemen,” Cabe growled from behind them. “It’s time you were on your way.”

* * *

“Your dad’s gambling buddies?” Happy mumbled into his tie, caught in the tight embrace he’d locked around her once they were alone.

He nodded silently.

“Cabe’s getting rid of them.”

He exhaled into her shoulder. “I know.”

Happy locked her arms tighter around his ribs. “Doc, you’re shaking.”

“I just…I just, uh…I think I’ve been so focused the last couple days on holding on to a few good memories that…” he fell silent, moved one hand to rest low on Happy’ s stomach. “I wasn’t prepared for that. I just…” his voice was barely audible, even though Happy was in his arms. “I just need a minute…with you guys.”

* * *

“Holy crap,” Happy was standing in Toby’s childhood bedroom early the next morning when she heard his voice in the doorway behind her. “Twelve-year-old Toby would have lost his mind if he’d known that one day, the his dream woman would be standing in his bedroom.” 

They’d spent a sleepless night in each other’s arms at the hotel. Toby was unable to shake the unrest brought by the arrival of his father’s gambling buddies. He was quiet, dark. And he barely let Happy get two feet from him. Not that she wanted to…she’d gone from being worried to worried sick.

“Not to mention one of the highest IQs on the planet,” Walter chimed in.

Toby narrowed his bloodshot eyes. “See, what I love about you is that nothing about that had anything to do with you, and yet your megalomania skirted right over that detail. Oooh. Careful with that,” he took a stack of composition books out of Walter’s hands. “My childhood research, I want to save it.”

  
“For what, the Tobias Merriweather Curtis Monument to Self-Obsession?”

“Shut up, doofus,” Happy chided Walter as she ran her fingers along a worn Harvard pennant. “He wants his notebooks; he gets his notebooks. You are here to serve as manual labor, not to critique.”

“Speaking of which, guys, you really don’t have to do this,” Toby called as he stepped back into the tiny living area. 

“Trust me,” Paige, said. “Many hands make light work. You supervise, and we’ll carry out orders and take care of the details.”

“I’ve already been researching recycling and trash pickup,” Sylvester said, never looking up from his tablet. “And anything you want to keep, we can ship back to LA. We’ll be done well in time for our late night flight.”

Toby laced his fingers with Happy’s. “You guys seriously are the best.” He ran one hand through his hair. “OK, um, that box there,” he pointed to the corner, “is already filled with stuff for my mom. Things I knew she’d want.”

“In addition to my notebooks,” he dropped the stack in a new box, “there’s um…a leather jacket in that closet I want to keep that was my dad’s, and…he turned around pointed behind Paige, “family photo albums, there, on the bottom shelf. And…oh!” he disappeared into his parents’ bedroom, reemerging in an old cream-colored fedora. “Check this out!”

A round of gentle laughs filled the room. “It’s like your origin story,” Sylvester said.

“I always thought he looked so suave in this thing.” Toby turned it over in his hands, smiling.

“OK,” Paige said. “We’re you’re team today. Start giving orders.”

The next hour went well, Toby’s spirits boosted by the presence of his friends and the finding of old mementos. His energy was low, and he wasn’t quite…well.. _her_ Toby, but compared to the night they’d had after his father’s friends had shown up…Happy would take it.

“OK, kid, good news,” Cabe hung the phone up, “Childhood buddy of mine runs a trucking company out of Brooklyn, and he’s got a little extra space on a rig that’s leaving today bound for LA. If you have any bulky items you want to keep, any furniture or anything, here’s a free way to get it home, if we can have it ready in the next half-hour.”

Toby ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, man, most of this stuff was secondhand when _we_ got it. Um…” he spun in a circle around the room. “Oh! Maybe the desk,” he took two big steps across the room to the antique rolltop desk in the corner. “ He pulled the chair out and began jerking drawers open. “I can remember sitting at this thing doing my math homework, and I was so young my feet were dangling from this chair.” He looked up with a grin. “I don’t know what’s in these drawers, but we can probably just toss it…”

He reached into the top drawer and puled out a handful of paper, then froze. Happy knew what it was the second she saw it. Toby’s apartment had once been filled with them. Betting slips.

Toby’s hand tightened into a fist around the paper.

“Why couldn’t you do better for me?” Toby whispered, fist shaking. “Why couldn’t you be a father, instead of someone I had to take care of? You know, this is fitting, I’ve been cleaning up after his messes most of my life. This,” he gestured around the half-packed apartment, “is the perfect metaphor to end our relationship, huh?”

“Kid,” Cabe said, kneeling in front of him, “I’m a father. Something you’ll learn when you become a father...one day...is that you’re going to screw up. Some people will screw up bigger than others. You deserved better, I’m not gonna pretend otherwise. But he always loved you with everything he had to give. That, Toby, I know for sure.”

“Everything he had to give,” Toby breathed, and the first tears fell down his cheeks. “ _This_ is what he had to give. _This_ is the Curtis family tradition, Cabe. I haven’t made a bet in more than a year a half, but for every minute of every hour of every day since I left that hospital I can’t stop thinking about...there’s a card game in a brownstone basement a block and half away,” he pointed through the wall behind Cabe. “Another up on Flatbush, some high rollers, big winnings to be had if you’re hot. A bookie two streets over who’ll cover any college or pro game bets you wanna make. To get to the track will take approximately 37 minutes, I take the L train to the Q to the T. _That’s_ what my old man passed down to me.”

“Doc,” Happy said.

He ignored her, pulled the photo album out of the box. “This picture you went so crazy for, Paige, this was on my third birthday. He celebrated by taking me to the track for the first time. By the time I was five I was able to do the calculations better than the oddsmakers and his crummy pals just loved it, because I could help them win. For God’s sake, I was _five_!” He gestured back to the desk. “And I’m just now remembering clearly, that wasn’t math homework, I was doing race statistics at that desk.” He flipped the page of the photo album. “This picture was the morning of the second-grade science fair. I had a big project to present. Sweet pic of me and my dad, huh? Mom wasn’t there because she’d had an episode that morning and then got plastered.”

“Toby—”

Toby smacked his fist into the counter. “Why couldn’t they just love me enough to give me what I needed? I don’t want that for our kid, Happy.”

“Our kid’s not gonna have that, not even close,” Happy said. “‘Cause I’m looking at a guy who got himself out of this apartment, got himself out of Coney Island and into Harvard. Graduated medial school insanely early. You have made a life for yourself, a job, and you even walked away from this...legacy of his.” Happy shrugged. “I don’t have any family traditions to pass on either, Toby. Abandonment, alcoholism, and criminal activity, that’s what I brought to the table on behalf of the Quinns. So, when we start a family...we’ll start our own traditions.”

“And not for nothing,” Paige said, “But this apartment is bursting at the seams right now with family. Family is not blood. Family is heart.”

Toby crumbled at Paige’s words and Happy caught him, arms locking around his ribs as the meltdown she’d been anticipating for days finally overtook him. She lost track of how long they stood there, but eventually his sobs quieted. “I love you,” he gasped in her ear. “I love you both so much.”

Happy nodded, her throat too tight to respond.

Toby gave her one last squeeze and stood straight, only to be reminded of the presence of the others. “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his face with both hands. “God, I need a mop here!”  The group responded with a polite round of smiles. “I’ll, um, ok, I’ll be right back.” He pressed a kiss to Happy’s temple before stepping away. 

* * *

The fire escape outside his bedroom window had always brought him solace as a kid when his mother had her episodes, and it worked its magic this time too, the sounds of the bustling neighborhood breaking up the cognitive block in his brain.

The window opened and the very last person he expected pushed his head through the window. “Do you want to be alone?”

“Pull up some fire escape, Ralphie Boy,” Toby said. They sat in companionable silence on the steps for a few minutes, and Toby found himself impressed with the boy...as much like Walter, like all of them as he was, he had managed to install the very best of his mother’s EQ as well. 

“What’s that building over there?” Ralph pointed across the street.

“Apartments.”

“Is it historic?”

“Um...” Toby scratched his head. God, he could sleep for a year. “It used to be a hospital. Not particularly historic, no.” Off Ralph’s inquisitive look, he elaborated. “It’s a different vibe here than in LA. New Yorkers have a way of making old things new again. It’s born of necessity, I guess. We’re out of space.”

Ralph nodded thoughtfully. “What about that building?”

“More apartments. Kid, why the sudden interest in architecture?”

Ralph shrugged. “I just want to learn what I can while I’m here. It’s my first trip to New York.”

Toby smiled, reflexively, and in the back of his head it felt foreign. “Is that right? You do some studying up on the plane?”

Ralph nodded, pulled a travel guide out of his back pocket.

“Well, New York is way too big to explore in the 18 hours before we head to the airport, so we need to triage. Gimme that guidebook, let me see what pages you dog-eared.”

* * *

“You sure we shouldn’t check on him?” Happy fidgeted in the living area.

“That’s what Ralph’s doing,” Paige said, handing some recycling off to Sylvester. “Although they are awfully quiet in there...”

Toby opened the door, Ralph in tow, just as Paige laid her hand on the doorknob. They stared at each other for a beat before Toby pulled her into a hug.

“I went ‘round the bend on you guys, I apologize.”

“It’s one of the privileges of the bereaved,” Paige said as she rubbed his shoulders, then stepped back. “No apologies.”

Toby stepped back into the living room, pressed a kiss to Happy’s forehead. “Thank you.”

Happy nodded.

Toby crossed his arms over his chest, paced until he found his way to the living room window. He propped himself on the windowsill. “OK...” he exhaled. “I want to say something, and I don’t want any backtalk.” He nodded at Paige. “Privilege of the bereaved.”

The group nodded its consent.

“First...I love each and every one of you guys. Even you, jackass,” he jerked his chin toward Walter. “Thank you for being here. Second, here’s where we’re gonna go from here.” He sniffled momentarily. “Hey Cabe, did you know it’s Ralphie Boy here’s first time in New York?”

“Is that right?” Cabe said. “I grew up two neighborhoods over, kid!”

“Really?” Ralph said. “Near anything historic? Or of scientific interest?”

Toby thumped Ralph’s ear. “ _Cabe_ is historic. We were talking out there on the fire escape, he’s,” Toby flipped Ralph’s guidebook over in his hands, “got some sights he’d like to see. Good choices, too, not touristy things.”

“The fire escape?” Paige screeched. “Ralph, _NO_ fire escapes!”

“OH. MY. GOD. WILL. YOU. RELAX.” Toby made a face at her. “So, we’ve got to be at the airport in approximately 18 hours. I say, let’s wrap up here as quickly as we can, and show Ralph a little New York, Scorpion-style.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Paige clapped her hands together. “But I’ve got an even better idea. Toby, you and Cabe, take Ralph on a whirlwind tour of Brooklyn from a couple of native New Yorkers. We’ll finish up here and catch up with you.”

“Paige,” Toby started. “I can’t just—”

“Toby,” Happy said. “I think she’s right. I think you need to get out of here. We can finish this.”

“Many hands make light work,” Sylvester reminded. “All you need to do is tell us what you’d like to keep.”

Toby looked around. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on,Toby, something,” Walter started. “You already mentioned a few items.”

Toby shook his head in a way that left no room from argument, even from Walter. “I’m done telling myself fairy tales about my childhood. Why would I want to remember any of the things I just told you about?” He dragged his hand down his face. “The things for my mother, set aside. But the only things in this apartment I ever want to see again are the people standing in it right now.”

There was another exchange of nods. “OK,” Paige said. “Why don’t you Cabe and Ralph get started, show Ralph around the old neighborhood, maybe? We’ll meet up with you later. Shouldn’t take too long, right Sly?”

“With new parameters, we should be able to complete this in less than four hours,” Sly pushed his glasses up his nose. 

Paige smiled. “We’ll meet up for a late lunch in Manhattan.”

“Oh!” Happy said. “I know just the Ukrainian diner.”

“I...” Toby looked around. “Are you guys _sure_?”

“I think it sounds like a very efficient plan,” Walter said.

“Well, we’d better get started!” Cabe said. “Ralphie Boy, have you ever heard of an egg cream?”

Cabe walked Ralph down the stairs. Toby shrugged into his jacket, pulled Happy into a hug by the door.

“Will you be OK?” Happy asked.

Toby nodded. “I’ve got Cabe. He’ll kick my ass if I go crazy again.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, but if you’ll be OK, I feel like I should help them.”

Toby nodded. “I’ll be fine. Don’t pick up anything too heavy,” he whispered. Happy rolled her eyes, but nodded. “And eat again before lunch.”

“Toby, grown woman.”

“Fine.” He pressed a kiss into her hair, then fished in his pockets for a moment. “Here’s the key,” he laid it on the counter, took a long look around the room. “Bye, Dad.”

* * *

The speakers surrounding the ice rink at Rockefeller Center blasted “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” while skaters glided, tiny figures against a backdrop of the tree, its high rise, and New York’s night sky.

“OK, so the kid wanted to do one touristy thing,” Toby said, looking over his shoulder where Paige and Ralph twirled in place. 

“Think I’m getting the hang of this,” Happy said before her skates came out from under her completely. Toby caught her, managed to keep them both upright. “Cabe, tell me you’re getting this for posterity.”

“Every bit of it,” Cabe never took his eyes from his phone.

“Turn that damn thing off,” Happy swatted in Cabe’s direction, but didn’t dare shift her weight.

“Hell, no, the world needs to know that there is one thing at which Happy Quinn doesn't achieve instant perfection,” Toby teased, skating backwards and pulling a wobbly Happy with him.

“Shut up,” she hissed. “My center of gravity is off.”

“Turtle’s the size of one of your precious pierogi, Hot Stuff.”

“Well, I’m from Southern California! I’ve never had ice skates on in my life!”

“How many excuses you got in the big brain of yours?”

“As many as it takes.”

Toby turned his toes out and learned forward, glided in a lazy circle around Happy. “Let’s bring the turtle back here at Christmastime. When he or she is old enough to enjoy it. I don’t mind our kid being an Angelean, but...I want him or her to know New York...select parts of it.”

Happy nodded. “Whenever you think it’s time.”

Toby leaned forward, let his weight swing him in another circle around Happy. “Don’t worry about me,” he whispered. Happy’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, you have been, don’t even start. I won’t deny the last few days have sucked...some of the hardest I’ve ever...but I had you with me. I actually...enjoyed myself this afternoon, with the kid. And we’re getting back on a plane tonight. I’ll be much better when we get back home. And better still, as time goes by.” He took Happy’s hands, pulled her along. “In the meantime, I’m not gonna disappear on you. Not to seek comfort at a card table, not to hide out emotionally. I don’t want any part of that Curtis family legacy. It’s turtle time, and Happy, I am here with you. Both of you. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Happy smiled at him. “Good.”

“And you were so amazing this week, I can’t even tell you.”

“I _did_ nurture the crap out of you,” Happy said.

Toby let out a sharp bark of laughter, and Happy’s heart leapt for a moment. “Caring, Happy Quinn style. I like it.” He went quiet for a moment, staring into her eyes. “I’m such an idiot,” he sighed.

“Why this time?” 

“My whole damn life I’ve been looking for something to bring me joy. I’ve buried myself in altered childhood memories, I’ve exaggerated my accomplishments, chased dreams that were never quite as good as I imagined. It’s you. You’re my joy. And I should have known it the first time I walked into that garage. It was like a big flashing sign over your head. Your damn name was Happy.”

Happy smiled. “Now, I like that version of Toby’s Happy.”

“Yeah, I thought you might.” Something over Happy’s shoulder caught his eye. “Not good.”

“Walter!” Sylvester shrieked. “Walter, I can’t hold it!” 

“No, Sly!” Walter screamed frantically. “No, no, no, the friction coefficient is too low, we’ll both—“

Happy wobbled around just in time to see Walter and Sylvester collide and crumble into a heap of arms, legs, and puffy coats. Behind her, Toby let out a squealing fit of laughter and collapsed to the ice. Normally, he irked her when he got loud and obnoxious, but after the last few days? It was absolute music to her ears.

* * *

Dec. 24, 2017

“OK, so we’ve got chocolate chips, oatmeal, potato chips, pretzels...” Toby stirred the cookie dough with a heavy wooden spoon. “That just leaves the secret ingredient. Ralphie Boy?”

“Maple syrup,” Ralph proudly presented the bottle.

“While I will admit the dough does smell quite tasty,” Walter leaned close the bowl as Toby finished stirring and began scooping the cookies onto a cookie sheet, “isn’t the point of baking cookies at Christmas to bake _Christmas cookies_?”

Toby slapped the scoop of dough on the pan so hard it flattened itself. “If it bothers you that much, I will cut yours into the shape of a reindeer with _very sharp antlers_ before I shove it up your—”

“OKAY, children,” Paige sent Walter on his way. “Is it like a monster cookie?”

“I call ‘em kitchen sink cookies, as in everything-but-the…me and my old man started making these when I was knee-high to a grasshopper. He eventually perfected the recipe.” Toby closed the oven. “15 minutes until cookie deliciousness. You’re my official timer.”

Ralph bounded off, focused on his mission.

“Sounds like a nice memory,” Paige said.

Toby stopped short. “It is.”

“So, see?” Paige said. “There are some good memories still in there, Toby, it’s just going to take some time for them to bubble up.” A quick hand to his shoulder and she was gone.

Toby was jarred from his train of thought several minutes later when Happy came to investigate. “I gotta admit, the turtle approves of the smell of these bad boys,” she peeked through the oven door. 

“Dad’s recipe,” Toby said tonelessly. 

Happy stood up. “What?”

“Dad and I…invented these things when I was a kid. And it’s just store-bought cookie dough with a few extra things thrown in, but…they were _so_ good. He sent me off to Harvard with a package of these in my backpack. And every time I came home, he had a batch waiting, and he made another batch to send back with me. I never really got it until just now.”

Happy reached out, took his hand in hers. “You know what else?” Toby sniffled. “He made the best, I mean _the best_ scrambled eggs you’ve ever had. I was never able to duplicate them. That Ukranian diner you fell in love with, that was him, too. We used to go there when I was down. After mom…” He shook his head. “Did I… _actually_ tell you guys to get rid of everything he owned? What the hell was I…”

“Toby, you were…upset. What the two of you had, it was…complicated. It’s OK.”

Toby shook his head. “I should’ve kept something. A few things. If nothing else, so the turtle can have something one day, something that belonged to Grandpa Curtis. I was just…I couldn’t remember any of that stuff in New York. It was sensory overload. I should have known better.”

Happy didn’t know what words to offer, so she wrapped her arms around him silently. He rested his chin on top of her head for a minute. “No use crying over spilled milk, I guess,” he sighed into her hair. “At least that’s what I’m gonna be teaching this kid in a few months,” they laughed softly. “So…I can’t afford to be a hypocrite.” He let go of her. “I’ll be in there in a few minutes. I just have to cut Walter’s cookie into a menacing shape.”

“The two of you have major issues,” Happy tossed over her shoulder as she headed toward Paige’s desk. 

“Like I don’t know that,” Toby shot back.

* * *

“OK, everybody,” Paige and Sylvester came down the ramp carrying a large cardboard box. “Looks like Santa dropped off one present a little early.”

“Nobody in this room believes in Santa, Paige,” Toby sighed from behind his book.

“Aw,” Paige cocked her head. “And to think this was for you.” She snatched a bow from her desk and slapped it on the top before setting it on the coffee table in front of him.

“For me?” Toby snapped the book closed. “From who?”

“All of us,” Sylvester smiled. 

“We were sorta waiting for the right time,” Happy said.

“Happy thought that time might be now,” Paige supplied.

Toby furrowed his brow before sitting forward. “Well, thanks,” he said, pushing the flaps of the box open. He froze when he saw its contents.

“Yeah,” Happy said. “So, we don’t always listen when you talk, Doc.”

Toby laid his palm over his mouth for a moment, then reached into the box, pulling out his father’s leather jacket. 

“Clothes make the man,” Cabe said. “That’s a good quality jacket, made to last a lifetime. Maybe two. Looks like it would fit you, too.”

Toby brought the jacket to his face. “God, that smell,” he shook his head, smiled to himself. “It’s amazing how olfactory sensation can take you back in time.” He laid the jacket in his lap, reached for the next item in the box.

Paige shrugged. “Just because you have photos doesn’t mean you have to look at them.” She pulled the albums out of the box and set them beside him on the couch. “I respect what you said in New York, but still…it’s nice to have the option.”

Toby nodded, traced his hand over the worn spines. “Yes, it is.”

Ralph stepped forward, pulled a pocketknife from the box. “Cabe gave me a knife that once belonged to his grandpa. He told me that one looked like it was about the same age. I thought maybe one day, you’d like to have that to pass down to your grandson. Like Cabe did.”

“Actually,” Toby took the knife from him. “This was my great-grandfather’s.” He flipped the blade out. He bought it in France, during World War I. I’d forgotten all about it,” he closed the knife. “Leave it to you to find the thing in there with the most history, kid.”

The next item out of the box was a cream-colored fedora. 

Sylvester shrugged. “Every superhero needs an origin artifact.” 

Toby settled the hat on his head before reaching into the box again. “I don’t believe it,” he said when he brought up a stack of composition books.

Walter rocked on his feet. “The Tobias Merriweather Curtis Monument to Self-Obsession is incomplete without early works,” he said. “Actually, there’s some fairly strong research in there, I was surprised to see you had an early interest in coding, which you abandoned to pursue the hokum of the social sciences—”

Paige swatted him in the shoulder. “Know when to stop.”

Happy dropped onto the couch next to Toby. “Last thing,” Happy said as Toby reached into the box. “I know we’ve been talking about doing something different with the second bedroom. I was thinking,” she said as she pulled up the Harvard pennant that hung on his bedroom wall, “maybe a collegiate theme would be nice.”

Toby laid the pennant across his knees. “Well, you know I’m on board.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Guys, I don’t even begin to know how to…thank you just seems so…small.”

“You’re welcome,” Paige said. “We thought one day you might change your mind. I’m glad you did.”

Toby laced his fingers with Happy’s. “I know it’s still a little early, but…” he nodded his head to the group.

Happy nodded. “If you want.”

“I do.” He looked up at the gang. “So, while we’re having this little family meeting, um…I guess we have some family business to take care of.” Toby looked back at Happy. “We’re pregnant.”

Paige hopped in place.

“Um, what’s this ‘we’ you speak of, partner?” Happy groused.

Toby rolled his eyes. “Happy’s pregnant. But I helped. _Enthusiastically_.”

Happy poked him in the ribs. “And we’re sure this time. Like, four different tests sure.”

“Hey, wow!” Cabe belted.

“That is brand new information that I did not have before!” Sylvester shouted.

“New data which I was certainly completely surprised to…learn about,” Walter opened his eyes bizarrely wide.

“OK,” Toby hooked his arm around Happy’s shoulders and leaned back on the couch. “The bad news is we’re not covert. No future in undercover work.”

“Clearly,” Happy agreed.

“We’re gonna have to get better at keeping secrets if the kid is gonna be surprised about any of his presents,” Toby said. “But let’s make sure these bozos teach him how to be sneaky, because that way, nothing will get past us.”

“Now, that’s a plan,” Happy laid her head on his shoulder. “Now…” Toby pulled Happy back toward the kitchen while the chatter continued in the bullpen. “Where did I leave that mistletoe?” 


End file.
